Movement at the double doors in the castle wall caught Wake’s attention and he saw Catherine and her husband, escorted by Brown, enter the patio. Faber looked unsteady, Brown bemused, and Catherine serene, all of which unsettled Wake. He remembered his manners and turned to the waiting bishop. “It is my great honor to accompany you, Your Excellency. Thank you for your very kind invitation.”
Bishop Ferro spoke rapidly in Italian to the aide, then regarded Wake. “And are you a blessed Catholic, my son?”
“No, Your Excellency, but I was raised as an Episcopalian, which we were told is about as close as one can be to the Catholic teachings. Now I am a Methodist.”
“Oh, my! A Methodist. Getting even further away from us, I should think. Hmm, you know, I met a Methodist once.”
They sat down at the table, facing a beautiful peach-colored sunrise over mountains shadowed in lavender as the aide delivered a plate to Wake. He waited until they said their prayers and asked, “And did you like him, Your Excellency?”
“I did! Knew his version of the Bible very well and the original—that would be ours, my son—relatively well. Tremendous sense of humor, he had. One joke after another. Made me laugh from here,” he pointed to his ample belly.
Belatedly, Wake comprehended that the only chairs left open at the table were the two directly opposite him. But it was too late to move before Catherine and her husband took them. Faber merely grunted after sitting and morosely picked at his food. His wife smiled at the clergyman and said, “Bonjour, bonjour. Good morning to everyone. Your Excellency. And to you, Lieutenant Wake. I trust everyone slept well?”
The bishop replied with both hands held wide. “Wonderful sleep after an enchanting evening. And now we have a delicious start to a beautiful day. God is shining upon our new day. You look as if you had a night of wonderful slumber too, my dear. This coastal sea air will do a person good.”
“So do gentle dreams, Your Excellency,” she answered, as her husband belched. “You didn’t respond, Lieutenant. Did you sleep well?”
Wake thought her apparent ease in the awkward situation odd. “No, Madame Faber, actually I did not. My mind was filled with problems that precluded any rest.”
She shook her head, full of concern. “That is a shame, Lieutenant. It must have been that moon last night. They say that a beautiful moon can alter a man’s mood. That sometimes it can make them positively mad. I have heard stories of what they do under that influence.”
“Yes, Madame Faber. I think it might have done just that last night.”
Wake heard Brown announce that more food was being brought out and not to be sparse with their appetite. “Buon giorno, La Vostra Eccellenza. Bonjour, Madame. Good morning, Lieutenant Wake. What do you think of our little place here now that you’ve had an overnight stay, Lieutenant?”
Wake could see no sign of disapproval in Brown’s eyes. “Very nice home, sir. As the bishop has said, it was an enchanting evening.”
Faber grunted again, looking as if he would vomit. He stood, then fled the table, heading indoors. “I must apologize for my husband,” said Catherine with a shrug. “He is ill this morning. A minor ailment.”
Brown sat at Faber’s chair. “Yes, well he had quite a lot of excitement last night. Challenging a Prussian to a duel is a substantial demonstration of emotion. Fortunately, it was not consummated.”
Catherine was not amused at Brown’s dry wit. “Thank God—and you, Your Excellency—that more mature heads have prevailed in that matter. Dueling. In this day and age. How very silly for grown men. Who are they trying to impress?”
Brown cocked his head slightly at her. “Grown men are known to do many silly things, Madame Faber. Usually in regard to the fairer sex.”
“I am not sure what you mean by that in this context, Consul General,” Catherine replied frostily. “Perhaps my English is not adequate to understand your intent.”
“Merely a general observation about men, my dear. I agree with you about duels, by the way. Far too much violence in the world already, even here in Europe, among us supposedly civilized people. Don’t you agree, Your Excellency? You’ve just come from Spain, where sadness prevails.”
“Yes, there is too much of this senseless violence going on. Spain used to be a civilized nation devoted to the word and rule of God, but just look at her now.”
Catherine interjected. “It is like that all over Europe. We are no better than the savages in Africa. Hah, and we tell them how to behave.”
Wake tore his gaze away from Catherine and looked at the bishop beside him. “You were in Spain, sir? May I ask where?”
Brown and Catherine became involved in a conversation with the Greek assistant consul next to them, who suggested that religion might be the cause of wars. The bishop ignored the obvious slight and answered Wake. “I was at the cathedral in Sevilla, Lieutenant.”
“Really? I was there too, sir. Back in January. I met a Jesuit priest. Father Muñosa. Do you know of him?”
Bishop Ferro grinned. “Yes I do, my son.” He then leaned over and whispered. “He liked you. Described you as typical American. Unaware and unafraid. Closest man to Don Quixote he had ever met. And he said that if I ever met you to tell you he is still waiting for a letter from you. A letter that will tell a great tale. He told me you were being transferred to Genoa.”
Wake shook his head, now understanding the bishop’s friendliness. But he also wondered how much the bishop knew of the events in Sevilla. He whispered back, “When the time is right, it will be sent to him, Your Excellency. It’s a bit early yet. Things need to settle down there first.”
“Yes, I understand that. Perhaps your friends will be able to return someday, God willing.”
Surprised at
